


No One Above Me

by SaffieDarling



Series: Say You Love Me Like A Hobo [2]
Category: Kane (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-01
Updated: 2012-04-01
Packaged: 2017-11-02 21:04:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaffieDarling/pseuds/SaffieDarling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Kane, are you out here? I swear on London, Christian, if you don’t get your ass back inside in the next five seconds, I will personally strip you naked and send you to sign autographs with ‘Rule #7’ painted on your chest.”</p><p>Steve and Christian have a discussion. Sequel to "Say You'll Love Me Like a Hobo".</p>
            </blockquote>





	No One Above Me

“Kane! Where the fuck have you gone, Kane?”

Steve was frustrated with Christian. Not that this was a particularly noteworthy event – after more than a decade of working together, Steve was intimately familiar with the myriad of ways Christian Kane could well and truly shit people off. Hell, if ‘Fucking’ was Christian’s middle name, then Steve’s was pretty much ‘Frustrated’. Ninety per cent of the time, this wasn’t a problem. Steve was a mellow guy and had plenty of experience in teeth gritting and redneck wrangling. 

“Kane!”

Tonight, unfortunately, was part of the other ten per cent. Steve felt like he was seconds away from flying out of his skin, his body buzzing with tension the way it normally was right before he snapped and joined Chris in a knock-down drag-out screaming match.

“Kane, are you out here? I swear on London, Christian, if you don’t get your ass back inside in the next five seconds, I will personally strip you naked and send you to sign autographs with ‘Rule #7’ painted on your chest.”

Okay, invoking rule number seven was possibly a little excessive. Especially since for once Christian wasn’t actively doing anything to cause Steve’s blood pressure to rise, the current disappearing act excluded. He hadn’t decided he was going to hoodsurf home, or proposed to a stripper, or announced that his new show was going to let him do his own stunts. And yet, all night, any time he was in range of Christian, Steve had felt the thrumming under his skin turn up another notch. Christian disappearing in the middle of packing up was just the final excuse Steve needed to let loose.

Steve heard Christian’s voice from the bus and slammed his way up the stairs. “Christian, hurry up and get your gea… oh for fuck’s sake, Kane!”

Steve took in the tableau in front of him. Discarded clothes, check. Half-finished drinks, check. Busty redhead, very much check. And… 

“Just give me another half hour, yeah Stevie?” Christian said, smiling lazily up from the bus’s couch, before trying to encourage the redhead between his legs to return to the task at hand.

…and a missing bandmate. Check.

“Oh, I’ll give you something Kane.” Steve said. “I’ll give you half a minute to get your cock back in your pants and your fucking gear on the bus or I’ll tell Gary to start driving, guitars or no guitars.”

Yeah, it was possible Steve was a little beyond frustrated. Inching towards irrational maybe.

Christian’s eyes narrowed, but Steve cut him off before he could say anything.

“Don’t you even start.” He turned to Christian’s friend. “Sweetheart, I’m really sorry and I’m sure you’re a lovely girl, but none of us signed up to play Christian Kane’s roadie, so I’m afraid he’s going to have to go take care of his responsibilities now.” 

Steve might be unreasonably pissed at Christian for something they’d all done at some point over the years, but he could at least acknowledge that the girl was an innoce… well she was definitely a bystander. 

The girl on the floor shrugged and started groping around for her underwear. “Fair enough, my break is nearly over anyway.” She kissed Christian languidly before she stood up. “I’m working till two, so come find me later if you need me to finish you off.”

She nodded once at Steve then disappeared down the stairs, still buttoning her shirt. Steve felt vaguely bad, but then shrugged. It sounded like she had gotten what she was looking for at least; Christian may not always be a gentleman, but he did believe in ladies first.

“Fucking hell Steve, what’s your problem?” Christian demanded once the girl had left. He also pointedly didn’t do up his jeans. “You’ve looked like you’re a second away from punching me all day.” 

Steve saw the glaze of alcohol in his eyes and frowned. He was sure Chris had looked significantly more sober the last time he had seen him. Just another reason to be irritated. “You’re my problem, Christian. I meant what I said: I’m not your roadie, and we’re leaving as soon as my gear is stored. I suggest you put your pants back on and grab your shit unless you want to play the next gig sans guitar.”

Christian didn’t listen, when did he ever listen? He just smirked and shifted so his legs sprawled wider, his flushed cock still visible through the opening in his jeans. 

Steve took a deep breath and forced himself to roll his eyes. “Yes, yes, congratulations, you have a cock. Now put it away before the others get a show they really didn’t sign up for.”

Christian’s smirk changed to a pout and he slouched down even further. “But I can’t put it away, ‘s too hard. Be uncomfortable. You don’t want me to be uncomfortable, do you Stevie?”

Steve managed not to punch him. See? Practice. Steve ‘Frustrated’ Carlson, master of dealing with Christian ‘Drunk, Petulant and Inappropriate’ Kane. “It’s just a cock, Christian. It’s not the biggest or even the prettiest I’ve ever seen, and your jeans aren’t that tight. You’ll be fine. Now move.”

Steve could see Christian’s eyes glitter in the low light and found he didn’t like the dangerous look that appeared. “’s big enough and pretty enough to make you hard though isn’t it, Steve? Have been since you walked in here.” Christian leered. “Your jeans are that tight.”

Steve bit back a groan. He was well away of how tight his jeans were and yes, how uncomfortably hard he had gotten at the sight of Christian blissed out on the couch, thank you very much. It was why he really needed Chris to get his pants back on, preferably yesterday. 

He may have been lying a little when he said Christian’s cock wasn’t one of the better looking ones he’d seen.

Chris was shifting his hips now, letting his hand drift up and down his flat stomach, because apparently Steve didn’t need functional brain cells. “Do you think I don’t notice, Steve?” He bit his lip, and rolled his hips again and Steve’s cock jumped. This was so very wrong. “I can’t help but notice. It’s all I can think about, ever since that girl, you remember, a few months back, the one with the finger? All I can think about is how good it was, about making it feel even better. About you making it feel better. Will you do that for me, Stevie? Will you put your cock up my ass for me?”

Fucking hell. Steve wasn’t kidding himself; since his Twilight Zone conversations with Jensen, he may have imagined Christian asking him that very question once or twice. Possibly more, and possibly in the shower. But he also knew that actually hearing it would be the first sign that he was losing his grip on reality. Funny, he hadn’t expected going crazy to feel like the whole world had punched him in the gut and then kicked through his ribs to stomp on his heart for good measure. He’d definitely pictured at least one less erection. The images were back again; flashes of Christian on his knees, on his back, sitting stretched wide on Steve’s cock. But there were other flashes, Christian avoiding his eye across the table, flinching away from his touch on stage, playing alone, no Steve in sight. Steve shook his head.

“Fuck you, Christian. You’re drunk, and I’m your best friend, not your fucking gay experiment – especially when I can still see that chick’s come on your chin.” 

Steve turned, heading back to the door of the bus, but stopped before going down the stairs. “I mean it when I say you’re my best friend, Christian. If this is a confession, if you seriously want to talk about your sexuality, then no problem, we’ll talk about your sexuality. I will be your fairy fucking godfather and guide you by my perfectly manicured hand in to the world of dude love. But I’m not your back up fuck and we’re not going to talk about this until you’re sober. And fully dressed. And you have your goddamn gear is on the motherfucking bus.”

\--------------------

Steve was back on the couch again, brooding in to his coffee, when he heard a groan and a thump, followed by the unmistakeable sound of Christian throwing up in the cramped toilet. Steve smiled in grim satisfaction – bus hangovers were the worst. He was just disappointed they were stationary; Christian deserved every miserable bump and sway.

By the time the retching stopped, Steve had moved to the small table and set up another brutally bitter coffee and a couple of aspirin.

“Where are the others?” Christian asked, once he had a hold of the coffee like it was the last saviour of a dying man. Which if he’d kept drinking after Steve escaped the bus for the safety of their friendship, and the structural integrity of his jeans, possibly wasn’t too far from the truth.

Steve grunted. “Breakfast, I think.” Steve watched as Christian visibly slumped, suddenly looking much more tired and ill. Typical Kane bravado.

“Thank god. The fewer people who had to hear that, the better. I think I saw my appendix come up there at one point.” When Steve didn’t respond, Chris continued. “Because you remember, I got my appendix out when I was 21. But I think it grew back, just to give me that little bit extra to puke up.”

Again, Steve just grunted and kept his eyes on his coffee. Christian noticed and sat straighter in his seat.

“So… my memory is pretty hazy this morning, but considering your cheery disposition and the vague image I have of you yelling at me, I think it’s pretty safe to say I’m sorry for whatever it is I did last night.”

That got Steve’s attention. “Seriously, Christian? You’re going with ‘I don’t remember what I did but I’m sorry anyway’? Way to stand up and own your shit, Kane.”

Christian’s jaw came up. “And I see you’re actually going with ‘if you don’t know why I’m mad, I’m not going to tell you.’ Nice work. What a wonderfully mature pair of communicators we make.”

Steve scoffed. “Name one time you’ve ever had a mature conversation in your life, Christian.”

Christian was still looking defiant. “Well I tried to have this mythical mature conversation last night, but apparently all I got was you yelling at me!”

Steve scoffed. He couldn’t be seri… he actually sounded serious. Fucking Christian! Steve dropped his head in to his hand and sighed. “Christian, I don’t know what weird-ass world you live in, but in mine, letting me find you getting your dick sucked on the bus and then begging me to fuck you does not count as a mature fucking conversation!”

Chris’s eyes flew wide and his mouth snapped shut mid-breath. “What? That… what?” He closed his eyes and groaned. “That is so not what I had in mind when I started the night.”

Steve knew he was probably being unreasonable but the thrumming under his skin was back and he was on a roll. “Oh, you tripped and your cock fell in to her mouth, is that what you’re trying to tell me? Or did you just think I’d suddenly turned in to a busty redhead with a whole new anatomy?”

“No!” Christian rubbed his hand over his face. “Fuck, I don’t know. I don’t really remember.”

Steve kept going. He was aware he was acting like a jealous boyfriend, but his mouth no longer seemed to be connected to his brain. “Well maybe that’s the source of your problem, Chris. If you wanted such a mature conversation, what were you doing going to the bar anyway?”

Christian’s face was heating. “Well Steve, it turns out it’s not really that easy to tell your best friend that you think you kinda might be a little in to dudes, and oh, a lot in to him while stone cold sober. Turns out I need a bit of encouragement to start a conversation that will risk the most important relationship in my life.”

Dimly, Steve realised that this would be a good time to stop and get Christian to explain exactly what he meant by ‘a lot in to him’, but his mouth was open again before the thought could really register. “Well you sure did a bang up job there, Christian! Nothing says ‘I value our friendship and would like to take it to another level’ like trying to use me to get off once I took away your girl toy!”

Christian was standing now, looking hurt and angry. “I don’t know what I was thinking okay? I barely remember that at all! Did you miss the bit where I was trying to tell you something massive and personal and life changing?”

“I don’t know Christian, it was kind of difficult to pick up through all the moaning!”

Christian dropped back in to his seat like he’d been punched and all those alarm bells whispering softly in Steve’s head about ‘going too far’ and ‘Christian’s trying to tell you something’ and ‘since when did you control his sex life anyway’ suddenly rose in volume and adding flashing sirens. Steve saw the stricken look on Christian’s face, and returned to the table.

“My answer from last night stands anyway. You’re my best friend and if you’re seriously trying to tell me you think you’re bi, I’ll be here for you and I’ll talk you through it. But I won’t be your gay experiment, Christian, I can’t.”

Christian was hunched over in his seat now, studying his coffee like it was a particularly confusing song lyric. Steve could barely hear him when he closed his eyes and mumbled, “Yrnotanexperiment.”

Steve valiantly avoided rolling his eyes. “You wanna try that again without the marble mouth, Brando?”

Christian sighed and lifted his head to meet Steve’s incredulous look. “You’re not an experiment, okay? I did my due diligence. Gay porn, gay bars. Queens, twinks, bears, straight-acting. I tried the works. Girls too, every shape and flavour. Trust me when I say I definitely like guys. And girls. And well, everyone. I’ve just got this issue where I seem to like you best of all.”

Steve thought he’d already boarded the train to crazytown, but obviously the universe wanted him to stay on the line all the way through to ‘you-fucking-what-ville’. He flailed wildly for something to say, and latched on to the first thing that came to mind.

“You’ve been screwing around like your dick could fall off at any moment the last few weeks because… you were conducting an experiment?” Steve could see Christian’s jaw coming up again. “You, shit, you actually believe what you’re saying, don’t you? You actually believe that was a reasonable and rational plan of action.”

Chris looked uncomfortable, but still defiant. “Jensen told me I couldn’t mess you around. I had to be sure.”

Fucking Jensen again. “Jensen told you… Kane, I swear to god, nobody else in the world would have interpreted ‘be sure you’re really in to him’ as ‘fuck every other person you meet just to be sure he’s the one you prefer’.”

Christian scowled and Steve could see his defences returning to full strength. Christian Fucking Kane was about to make a reappearance. Sure enough… “Fine then. Chris Kane’s a fuckup. Who saw that coming. Thanks for your fucking support, and kindly never mention this conversation again, yeah?”

Steve threw up his hands. “Woah, slow down there. I said it was a… unique interpretation, not necessarily a fuckup. I mean, it’s almost kind of sweet, if you squint hard enough.” You know, if you are familiar with Kane logic. And are insane.

Kane was still scowling in to his untouched coffee. “Yeah, well I’m still going to kick Jen’s ass when I see him. I appreciate the ‘I support you’ speech, I honestly do, but after what Jen said, I was kind of hoping for something, well, a little less platonic.”

Steve was about to demand to know exactly what Jensen had said, but Christian was looking uncharacteristically vulnerable. Something in Steve’s gut twisted and suddenly he had a whole new set of images. Christian strumming nonsense songs on his guitar next to a campfire, Christian making breakfast barefoot and barechested in Steve’s kitchen, Christian curled up and pressed in to Steve’s side, mumbling unguardedly in his sleep. Yes. They looked so familiar, so natural, and Steve was only human. He could only resist temptation for so long. Without making a conscious decision, Steve found himself catching Christian’s hand and tugging him across in to Steve’s lap. Before he could acknowledge what a terrible idea this was, he lent forward and brushed his lips ever so softly against Christian’s.

Christian’s reaction was instantaneous. He didn’t hesitate, his hands coming to rest on Steve’s shoulders as he leant in to the kiss. Steve twisted one hand in to Christian’s hair, as the other one caught Chris’s narrow waist, tugging him closer. Christian made a sound of approval in to Steve’s mouth and deepened the kiss, his teeth tugging softly at Steve’s lip when they finally came back up for air.

Steve leaned back, cataloguing the man straddling his lap. Christian still looked wary, but his eyes were wide and his face was flushed. Steve could see Christian’s cock stirring, tenting softly through sweatpants, and when he rubbed a soft thumb down Christian’s jaw, he was rewarded with a low groan that when straight to his own cock.

Fuck it. More than a decade of friendship. They’d survived albums and solo careers and everything else, they could survive this. Steve made a decision and smiled slowly, meeting Christian’s eyes. “You want something a little less platonic, do you Chris?” Steve arched up, allowing himself to press against Christian’s thigh. “How does that feel to you Christian? Non-platonic enough?”

Christian was shifting in his lap now, pupils blown wide as Steve kept his thumb stroking softly across Christian’s jaw, pausing to rub firmly across swollen lips. Fuck, the guy was intoxicating. He trailed his fingers down Christian’s neck and Chris whimpered. “Fuck yes, Steve, please.” Steve saw Christian frown and physically fight to focus. “But…” Steve stopped whatever Christian was about to say with another soft press of his lips.

“Yes, I know, but. But it’s not this simple. But there need to be rules, and boundaries and negotiations. Adult communication. Adult communication while sober. All that kind of stuff. But come on Chris, we’ve been negotiating our lives for years. Trust me, in the name of no-platonic, we can negotiate this.”

He dropped another soft kiss to Christian’s mouth and Christian groaned, chasing his lips blindly as Steve pulled back. “Yeah, yeah, okay. Negotiation. Boundaries. Communication. Non-platonic. I can do… fuck!” Christian swore as Steve ran his hand up Christian’s smooth side and brushed across a hard nipple.

“Later.” Steve breathed, mouth ghosting across Christian’s throat. “You look like sin personified right now. Negotiation later.”

Christian squirmed on Steve’s lap, fully hard now and looking for friction. Steve’s hand had dipped below the waistband of Christian’s pants and Chris was gasping. “Jesus Steve, screw boundaries. I haven’t fucked anyone without thinking of you in months. I don’t need rules, fuck I don’t need anything, except for you to keep… doing… that…”

Steve was about to respond about exactly what he wanted to keep doing when the door to the bus slammed open and Jay stumbled in with one arm thrown across his eyes and the other holding a bag full of food like a whiste flag.

“The yelling stopped so either you’ve killed each other or you’re fucking, and Gary says we’re pulling out in five minutes either way. The breakfast is yours if you promise to put your clothes back on or get rid of the body without making me an accessory after the fact.”

Steve laughed, and Christian grunted something about “No casualties yet.” Jay nodded, dropped the food in the vicinity of the table and bolted for the door, “five minutes guys” floating over his shoulder.

Christian blinked a couple of times and then shrugged and dropped his head to Steve’s shoulder. “On the bright-side, that’s one fairly awkward conversation we can skip right on over.” he said from the vicinity of Steve’s neck.

Steve turned his head so he could nuzzle in to Christian’s hair and breathed deep. Sweat, stale cigarettes, spilt beer, toothpaste, thank god, and underneath it all, the unique smell that was all Christian. Steve inhaled again and smiled.

Maybe Jensen could live after all. Oh, there were still going to be conversations. Serious conversations about healthy ways to deal with emotional pain and the dangers of giving non-specific advice to impulsive Oakies. Steve dropped one last kiss to Christian’s forehead and pulled Christian tight against his chest as he reached around him to snag the breakfast bag. Yes, there were going to be conversations. And maybe a couple of thankyous.

**Author's Note:**

> Right, so getting this out was a nightmare and after weeks of fiddling I'm still not happy with the pacing or the ending, but this is it. Ugh, I could've really used a second opinion on this, so if anybody knows of anyone willing to beta for a new writer, please let me know.
> 
> I think there may be a part three to this. People seem to want to know what happens to Jensen, and I feel like there should be some proper porn at some point.
> 
> Title again stolen from Imelda May.


End file.
